"Now, my dear George! I do think I may claim at least that you should remember I am your _mother_!"--the speaker raised a fan from her knee, and used it with some vehemence. "Of course I can't help seeing that you don't treat me as you ought to do. I don't want to complain of Letty--I daresay she was taken by surprise--but all I can say as to her reception of me last night is, that it wasn't pretty--that's all; it wasn't _pretty_. My room felt like an ice-house--Justine tells me nobody has slept there for months--and no fire until just the moment I arrived; and--and no flowers on the dressing-table--no little _attentions_, in fact. I can only say it was not what I am accustomed to. My feelings overcame me; that poor dear Justine will tell you what a state she found me in. She cried herself, to see me so upset." Lady Tressady was sitting upright on the straight-backed sofa of George's smoking-room. George, who was walking up and down the room, thought, with discomfort, as he glanced at her from time to time, that she looked curiously old and dishevelled. She had thrown a piece of white lace round her head, in place of the more elaborate preparation for the world's gaze that she was wont to make. Her dress--a study in purples--had been a marvel, but was now old, and even tattered; the ruffles at her wrist were tumbled; and the pencilling under her still fine eyes had been neglected. George, between his wife's dumb anger and his mother's folly, had passed through disagreeable times already since Lady Tressady's arrival, and was now once more endeavouring to get to the bottom of her affairs. "You forget, mother," he said, in answer to Lady Tressady's complaint, "that the house is not mounted for visitors, and that you gave us very short notice." Nevertheless he winced inwardly as he spoke at the thought of Letty's behaviour the night before. Lady Tressady bridled. "We will not discuss it, if you please," she said, with an attempt at dignity. "I should have thought that you and Letty might have known I should not have broken in on your honeymoon without most _pressing_ reasons. George!"--her voice trembled, she put her lace handkerchief to her eyes--"I am an unfortunate and miserable woman, and if you--my own darling son--don't come to my rescue, I--I don't know what I may be driven to do!" George took the remark calmly, having probably heard it before. He went on walking up and down. "It's no good, mother, dealing in generalities, I am afraid. You promised me this morning to come to business. If you will kindly tell me at once what is the matter, and what is the _figure_, I shall be obliged to you." Lady Tressady hesitated, the lace on her breast fluttering. Then, in desperation, she confessed herself first reluctantly, then in a torrent. During the last two years, then, she said, she had been trying her luck for the first time in--well, in speculation! "Speculation!" said George, looking at her in amazement. "In what?"